


I Just Want To Feel Warm Again

by ImpulsivelyBlue



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: M/M, References to Suicide, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-19
Updated: 2013-06-19
Packaged: 2017-12-15 11:36:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/849112
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImpulsivelyBlue/pseuds/ImpulsivelyBlue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been almost six months since Jason left him. </p><p>During the, almost, six months time has slowed down. It's crawls by pathetically, mirroring his feelings in one of the most awful ways he could imagine. </p><p>He has lost any and all motivation he had before, getting out of his bed, let alone his apartment was painfully difficult in the mornings knowing Jason won't be there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Just Want To Feel Warm Again

**Author's Note:**

> THIS HAS SUICIDE ATTEMPT AND SUICIDAL THOUGHTS SO IF THIS IS A TRIGGER FOR YOU PLEASE DON'T READ ANY FUTHER.

\---

It's been almost six months since Jason left him. 

During the, almost, six months time has slowed down. It's crawls by pathetically, mirroring his feelings in one of the most awful ways he could imagine. 

He has lost any and all motivation he had before, getting out of his bed, let alone his apartment was painfully difficult in the mornings knowing Jason won't be there. 

Reading the reports for Wayne Tech became an unavoidable chore; it wasn't like Dick or, god forbid, Bruce would actually do their work for the company just this once. 

The work that he has to to, the work that will keep Bruce's company alive. (But is killing him.)

Time was moving so slow and forgettable. 

Time to eat and sleep blurred away until he would pass out, only to wake up alone, no one had noticed his absence. Not even Alfred called anymore. It was just so painful to do the things he used to enjoy, reading, writing, cooking even the few patrols he went on were almost non existent. 

Who ever it was that said time would mend a broken heart was so, so wrong. It only made it worse. Every morning seems to reopen the raw wound of, not only his heart but, his very being.

His sleeping patterns are random and unpredictable, Tim now preferring the stop-where-he-drops theory for sleep, rather than going in to thei- his room to sleep alone, surrounded by Jason's few possessions that were left behind. Well what few hours of sleep he could get before he wakes up screaming in to the still and empty silence. 

He's beginning to forget that there were dreams as well as nightmares. 

The apartment is always so cold during those times, Jason's warmth and life no longer filling their- the empty and unused rooms. This year is so much colder without Jason, Tim is never warm anymore. The cold wrapping itself securely around his bony shoulders as he curls in on himself in thei- his pristine bathroom. 

He wraps his arms around himself accompanying the cold in its embrace. He feels the plaster on his left hand rub against his in naturally, some would even say sickly, skin. 

He glances down at the hand that is blurred by unshed tears that glaze his aqua marine eyes, unblinking and dead. 

He remembers the small cut he had revived from the Wayne Tech reports. His blood was warm on his icy skin, it was something he hadn't felt scince Jason left him. 

It was refreshing. Tim knew he shouldn't think that way, but he had been so cold, so alone for so long. 

Could he. Could he feel warm again? Could it be like it was before? Could he really go through with it?

The reports for Wayne Tech were complete, his files as Red Robin completed to the fullest extent he could. So what was left for him?

He didn't know when he reached in to the cabinet he was huddled against but he could feel warmth pooling in his hand. It just felt so good to feel something again. He looked down to red and a sound of drip, drip, drip. 

An old razor was held tightly in his bony right hand cuts decorating his delicate skin as the slash on his left wrist bled freely the warmth dripping down on to his lap, on to the too big pyjama bottoms that were most likely Jason's, but he didn't care right now because it was just so, so warm. He wanted to be warm. God, it had been so long since he was really warm. 

It was warm and it didn't hurt he moved before his brain registered this own body moving ahead of his definite decision, cutting again and again at the other wrist. 

He was dust and the blood was everywhere. But he didn't care, he couldn't. 

He was warm and it didn't hurt to breath, to live. 

He slumped sideways, some part of his consciousness registering the sound the broken razor made then it hit the ground. His eyes became to droop closed. 

He thinks he hears something else. ("Babybird?") But he's already slipped in to the forgiving and familiar silence. 

\---

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to slytherin-kyuubi on tumblr for having a quick look at my spelling mistakes, there were suprisingly few. And a mixed feeling of horror and thanks for telling me to write. HERE HAVE A COCONUT YOU BEAUTIFUL PERSON. THANK YOU. 
> 
> And thanks to batman-defeats-all on tumblr for also checking over my writing. 


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